Falling so Hard
by Angel Eevee
Summary: [T/P Oneshot (sequel)] A long awaited sequel to 'Dear Diary...' Picks up around where the first ended, all from Trunks' point of view this time around. He's trying to ask Pan to marry him, but everyone seems to be getting in his way. Poor guy.


Warning:  As this is a sequel, I would strongly suggest you read the prequel first, "Dear Diary...".  And if you have read that, you may want to re-read it, since this is being posted more than a year after it's predecessor.  Refresh your memory.

Author's Ramble:  I sort of disappoint myself with this.  When I wrote 'Dear Diary...' I swore no matter what, I would not make a sequel.  Well, a 'what' came up that mattered, so I did.  I've gotten a large handful of requests for sequels, and yes, I realize almost everyone says they want a sequel after ANY fanfic, but I've chosen to ignore that.  Anywho, here it is.  An answer to what happened after the balcony scene we ended on with Pan, and answer as to 'why' exactly she could not finish her entry with the paper she had, and an answer to Trunksie's question that you all knew he was going to ask, some re-appearances from grad-dates and fiancees, and some all around Trunks/Pan goodness.  Enjoy. 

Dedication: to everyone who asked for a sequel, and are still alive to read it

**Falling so Hard**

**Angel Eevee**

            My computer is filled with confidential files, all numerously password encoded, and wired for only my viewing, and occasionally Mother's, when she feels that it is absolutely necessary to search my computer... but she's almost always looking for this. 

            My most secret of all secret files.  No, it doesn't contain Capsule Corp.'s budgets and resource files (which I have full access to - me being the president), no it doesn't contain the plans for a time machine (which Mother oddly has on here... although I'll never know why), nope.  This file is for my own personal use, and is really in no way connected to Capsule Corp.  Not directly anyway.  

            When Mother first handed over the company to me, I had to move into this office, although large, it gave off the sense of claustrophobia.  It still does from time to time.  When things got to hectic, and the window looked like _such a beautiful thing, and my hands would shake because I wanted out of that office so, __so badly... I would turn to this file.  _

            This file, is a distraction from my life you see.  It's a way I can take my mind off work, and as an added bonus, I still _look like I'm typing madly away on a project, which is convenient should Mother stop by, or a passing employee glances in.  _

            I know Mother knows this file exists.  She's seen it open a few times, before I could quickly close it away from her prying eyes.  I would never let her read this.  I mean, who in their right mind would?!  Let their mother read something so personal.   She does enough snooping around in my social life, I don't need her in my head too.  

            This file has kept me sane on days when insanity was quite in my reach.  This file has helped me sort out situations and feelings into simple terms which I could master.  It has helped me look at the facts of my life, and make decisions accordingly.  

            This file is my daily salvation.

            This file, is my journal.   

[June 25] - later

            Urgh... please, just don't talk to me.  Not that you ever could, but honestly, just leave me alone, to sulk, whine, and whimper like a poor, homeless man.  No, I didn't get kicked out of the house, so I'm not _truly homeless... why do I have to explain myself to you?!   I don't._

            Ha.

            The party.  That's what you want to know about, right?  Yeah... 

            I was incredibly handsome, as always.  And equally modest about it.  But Pan... oh, she had to go and ruin everything.  Things would be hard enough as they naturally would, but she didn't have to show up looking so gorgeous.  Seriously.   I have no idea how she accomplished what she did, but she was quite stunning, I will tell you that.   

            Girls always ask me to dance at parties.  It's quite annoying.  I mean, if I want to dance, I will ask, I don't need them to go hang all over me.  Pan never did that.  Well, okay, that's a lie, when she was a child she did do that, but she doesn't anymore... well, not tonight anyway.   She was sitting down a lot... I was the one that was hanging over her, begging for dances.  I bet she hated it, but how could I not?  It's her own fault for showing up the way she did.  Did I already say that?

            One can only dance so many times, before one finds himself pulling his lady onto the overly done balcony deal.  It was cold out, which seemed odd, as it is June.   The stars were shining in all their brilliance, and Pan had some perfume on that was making my brain wacky and my words unsophisticated and corny... that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.   

            "Is that where you live angel?"  I ask, gaze upon the stars.  As said; unsophisticated and corny. "You really do look like an angel,"  what perfume WAS she wearing? "You did a nice job with your costume."  

            "Hmm, thanks...  so did you,"  she said quietly, her arms folded tightly together, and she turned to go back inside.  Is my company driving her away?  Am I that boring of a person that she couldn't humor me and chat for a few minutes alone?  Oh.  It's cold and she's in spaghetti straps.   I'm rather clueless.  Damn perfume.  

            I grabbed her wrist and pulled her over into a hug.  Well, as much of a hug you can give a girl that's got silky wings sewn to her back.   "You cold?"   I am such an idiot.   As you may note, some things about tonight, I wish I could have done slightly differently.  

            "Umm, not anymore."  She says.   And the stupid perfume is back, and she's leaning against me, and there's music in the background, and she had this cute little smile on her face.  And it was the perfect atmosphere for a kiss.  And Bra said she liked me, so it would be perfectly all right for me to kiss her.  And her lips were inviting enough for a kiss.  And I WANTED to kiss her.  

            So I did.  

            I thought maybe she would shriek as most girls do when it is over, or go for a second one, or smile, or I dunno... something _positive, but she just looks up at me, confused.  _

            "Pan, Bra said that you kinda... liked me..."  Why was it so hard?  Why am I always so awkward around this girl?  "Is that true?"  Say yes.  Dende, you make her say yes and I'll never ask for anything ever again.  I will worship you and work as a slave at the lookout, I'll...

            "Ya."   

            Oh.  Well... maybe not the whole 'worship' and 'slave' deal....

            "Good.  If you didn't, I would never have the guts to say this."  Truer words have never been spoken.  I've done this before - remember Jessica?  Oh, Pan, please forgive me about Jessica.  Don't you understand?  I don't want to be with her, I want you... Pan.  But this WAS Pan.   I mean her father would certainly flip.  My father is weird and I think he already knows what's going on anyway.   Was I obvious?  I can not help loving her, even when I am so much older than her.  How do I convey these thoughts into words?   "But Pan, I have been wanting to be with you forever!  You see, the only reason I ever went out with Jessica was to get my mind off you.  Then I thought if we married, I could put you behind me forever.  I didn't want to!  I just thought that you would be repulsed that a guy fifteen years older than you would want to..."

            "Fourteen years,"  I wish she wouldn't interrupt.  I'm on a run.   What's that?  Oh.  Fourteen.  True enough.   I nodded.  

            "Yes, sorry, fourteen years older.  But, when I saw you kiss that Peter guy,"   Agh!  Gag.  Cry.  Cringe.  "I realized I couldn't.  I would live the rest of my life in misery.  Every time I'd see you with your husband, kissing, it would be like a part of me died.  But since you weren't married or engaged, I still had a chance.  I just had to get rid of someone else first.  Jessica.  I don't know how I ever slipped this ring on her finger, because it only belongs to one woman.  The angel of my heart..."  Damn perfume, "Pan, I have loved you through all of time and eternity, and I would be the happiest man ever to exist, if you, Pan Son, would be mine.  Pan... will you..."  

            And then my day went straight to hell.  

            Insert intense glare at Dende.  

            "Paaaan?  I wanted to kno-"   Bra stopped right where she was, leaning partly out into the balcony, partly still inside.   Her face turned pale, noticing me on my knees, and Pan glaring at her like there was no tomorrow.  "Ah ah ah... um... I told you he liked you, Pan...  I'll just... go now..."  

            "Bra?  Did you find them?"  Came Goten's voice from a little ways inside.  I stood up quickly and Pan had a horrified look on her face.  I wondered if it was because I proposing to her, or that Goten would see, or that I was interrupted.  I hoped it was option three.   She glanced over at me, biting her lip, then walked away.  

            Yes.  She walked away.   

            Bra looked mortified, and Goten's expression was blank.  Now when I say blank, I mean it was blank to the situation, not blank the way it will get sometimes.  It was quite obvious he had no clue what was going on.  It was quite obvious he had no idea that I'm head over heels for his little niece.  But he can't try and beat me up over it - I've seen the way he glances at my sister.  

            And so, that was my evening.  It was pitiful and heart-breaking.  I was all for proposing to Panny that very second, but my little sister had to step in and mess things up.  But now I get to look at things in a different light.  I have a chance to back out now if I want to.  

            Pan had walked away.  What does that mean?   I know she likes me, she said so herself.  But why would she leave?   This whole thing has got me wondering if I've made the right decision.  Actually, I say I'm wondering about it, but truth be told, I know exactly what I want.   

            Wanting and getting are usually not the same thing, unfortunately.

            Even for the president of Capsule Corporation.   

---

_Remember when_

_We never needed each other_

_The best of friends, like_

_Sister and brother_

_We understood_

_We'd never be_

_Alone_

---

[July 02]  

            Fancy meeting you again.   Oh, I see I left off at a nice little spot in my bottom-less pit that has no end to misery and emptiness that I like to call my life.  You can tell I'm in a cheery mood today, no?  

            I haven't seen Pan since that night.  This isn't really that odd.  I usually only see the Sons at parties or the like.  I came in more contact with Pan then the others because I used to see her while I drove to work, and her walking to school.  I only asked her if she wanted a lift a few times.  I don't think I realized it then, but it was always weird when she was around.  I could place that on love, for surely that is what I feel towards her, but maybe it was just weird having a high school student in the passenger seat.  Obviously, I will never know.  My little Pan has graduated.   

            Mother has been on the phone, naturally, with Chichi.  I don't think the two could live without the gossip over alien husbands, cooking talent (on in Mother's case, the lack of) or what ever topic emerges into their conversations.  It's the hotline of gossiping women who are in desperate need of something to do.  Quite frankly, the whole thing scares me sometimes.  But anyway, through Mother, I found out that Pan is choosing her university classes and residency.   

            So.  Does Pan not want to give anything another go?  Is she waiting for me to ask her again?  I will gladly do it.  I'll just pray that she doesn't have that blasted perfume on again.  I think I may sneak into her house and destroy the thing.   

            I asked Bra about it, and she says its just the scent they sell at the cosmetic store in the mall.  Granted it is an expensive scent, but there's no hormones or love spells in it.   I'm not positive I believe her.  

            On the topic of my oh-so-darling little sister, I have begun to speak to her again.  She _did destroy my proposal after all, I was in my every right to sit through dinner obviously ignoring her while Mother gave quizzical glances between us and Father complained about the food, occasionally giving me a stare that I recognized, though still puzzles me.  _

            It's the stare he's given me many a times before.  It's the one where he knows what's going on, he knows how it's going to end, and he knows how each player should be playing their role.  I just couldn't look at the stare long enough to tell whether he approved of how I was playing or not, because the potatoes needed passing, and when I looked back, Father had turned his attention back to Mother, complaining about something or other.  

            Bra apologized profusely about interrupting us, and I can't really hate her, as much as I would love to.  She was the one that told me Pan liked, and even loved me.  I owe my sister a lot, but I still took a week or so to frown at her when we met.  It set her on her nerves, and if not for revenge for what she did to me that night, it was for the sheer amusement of her skittering around corners when I came near, or throwing herself at me for forgiveness.

            Not that she actually threw herself...

            ... I'm sure you know what I mean.   

            So, if anything is to be done, I will have to do it soon, and propose properly.  I have to have Pan.  I love her.  It would be an ironic, sick-minded, cruel twist of fate if Pan wouldn't be mine.   I have never felt this way about a girl before.  And glad of it.  It's terrible.

            Food doesn't taste quite the same, my nerves are a wreck, my dreams are haunted, my hands shake when I think about it... think that Pan isn't mine, and she might get away from me again.  Like with Peter.  

            I have to pull up my pants and just go for it.  

---

_Those days are gone_

_Now I want you so much _

_The night is long _

_And I need your touch_

_Don't know what to say_

_Never meant to feel this way_

_Don't want to be_

_Alone tonight_

---

[July 06]  

            Pulled pants up... halfway?  Sure.  

            It was a lovely summer morning, and I was gazing out  the window, like I do every morning... I should really stress that this is an every day occurrence.  I mean, it has a scheduled slot in my schedule.  10-10:30 - look out window.   

            "Sorry sir, but I'll have to cut this meeting in which we discuss the enormous and beneficial trade agreement between our two companies short.  I have to be somewhere else right now... what?  Oh, no.  No other meetings.  I just need to look out my window for thirty minutes of my life.  Toodles."  

            Yeah.   So, while I gaze at the wonderful, living world outside everyday, lately I have been thinking about the same someone every time whilst I let my cerulean eyes do the gazing.   Yes, I think about her even when I'm not wasting time staring at clouds, but I can think about her without distractions during this part of my day.  

            Usually I think about the basic things about Pan.  Her smile, her sense of humor, the way her hair swings when she walks, the way her eyes light up when she laughs, her laugh alone... and, naturally, things I'd rather not discuss here... you know, typical guy thinking about girl stuff.   On some occasions, I think a little deeper, like what goes on in her mind, if she likes me at the level I like her, if I truly want her, what type of toothpaste she uses... the deep stuff.  But today, I was pondering the most pressing item in my pursuit of Pan's heart.  

            How to talk to her again.  

            I spent a good majority of my time thinking about ways of talking to her, ranging from getting Bra to do it, to taking a job at a pizza parlor so I could deliver some pizza to her home and hope that neither of her parents answered the door.  

            Then, inspiration struck my mind like a bolt of lightning.  I could call her!  Gah!  I have her phone number, I have a phone, she has a phone... I'm a genius.  

            ... sometimes complimenting myself is awfully tiring.  

            So I dial her house.  And thanks to the lovely luck Dende has so generously bestowed upon me... Gohan picked up.  

            "Hello, Son Gohan  speaking, may I help you?"  

            "Uuuh... Pan?"  

            "... this is her father."

            "Yes, I mean... can I talk to Pan?"   I know that Gohan is just a man, ture he's an extremely powerful man that could beat me to an inch of life... all right, never mind.  My shaky hand and stuttering voice were completely warranted for my talk with him.  Normally he's a great guy - he's patient, intelligent, kind, and generally simply wants to do what's right.  But when you pull his family into the equation, I've seen him turn quite violent.  I've never seen him deal with Pan's boyfriends, but Bra tells me it's a sight to see.  

            "Of coarse.  May I ask who's calling?"  Umm, umm, umm.   Lie.  Lie like you've never lied before.  He may not let you talk to Pan if he knows it's you.  _Pan may not talk to you if she knows it's you.  So, lie damn you!  Lie!_

            "Trunks."   I hate myself sometimes.  

            "Oh!  I didn't recognize your voice, Trunks.  You sound really nervous,"  he said in a light tone.  I could almost picture the infamous Son smile on his face, but then his voice turned rather dark.  "You aren't nervous, are you?  I mean, you're not sounding nervous because you need to talk to Pan but I got here first, and you're getting frightened because-"

            "Gohan, just give Pan the phone,"  Videl's muffled voice came through.    Dende, I love you, did you know?  

            "Fine.  Just a minute, Trunks."   

            "Truunks?"  came Videl's still young-sounding voice.  

            "Hey, Videl."  I replied, my voice oddly normal again.

            "I'm sorry about Gohan.  He's been so edgy when it comes to Pan.  Apparently there was an episode with her and her date at the prom."

            "Peter?"  I asked, my mind whirling.  Episode?  Edgy?  

            "Yeah... I'm not sure on the details, but- oh, here's Pan.  Nice talking to you, Trunks.  Don't be a stranger."  

            "Trunks?"  Aaah.  My little Pan.  Her voice was like an umbrella from the stormy hell that is my work life.  Shelter.  Brief freedom.  

            "Uh, hi Pan."

            "Hi..."  argh, say something, stupid!

            "I was wondering... I mean, I think we should.... maybe you and I... um... I need to talk to you..."   She giggled.  I grinned like a man gone mad.

            "You're talking to me now,"  she pointed out.  My little Pan's so smart.  Urgh - get a grip on yourself, boy!  ... am I making conversation to myself?  Maybe I have gone mad.

            "Yes, I just mean... face to face.  Lunch next week?"   

            A pause.

            "Alright,"  she replied.   Alright as in 'okay', 'whatever', 'yeeeah!', or 'hell, no'?  

            "Okay, great.  How about the 12th... at Lugino's?"  

            "Alright,"  she said again.  What do you mean by 'all right'?!   

            "See you then..."  

            "Alright."  Argh! 

            "Bye."  If she says-

            "Bye."  

            So, you see, I have made some progress with little Pan.  I have a date with her to 'talk'.  Talk about the ring that so tauntingly sits in my dresser drawer at home.  Now I just have to wait.   

---

_What can I do to make you mine_

_Falling so hard_

_So fast this time_

_What did I say_

_What did you do_

_How did I fall in love with you_

---

[July 12]  

            I was a nervous wreck.  Now that I look back, I'm not sure why.  I had already all but proposed to her.   So, I sat at a small table in Lugino's.  I wasn't sure how Pan would treat this little get-together, and therefore wasn't sure how to dress for it.   There was no chance I'd wear my tux to Lugino's, and I knew Pan would never think the same... about wearing a nice dress... obviously.  Though oddly the thought of her in a tux is kind of amusing.  In my mind, she looks rather cute in a tie.  Suppose it reminds me of that bandanna she used to live in.  

            But the question still remains... what to wear?  I opted for casual, but nice.  In my world, that's khakis and a navy blue shirt.  It was warm out though - I hate summer.  Due to the weather, I had the sleeves rolled up to my elbows, and was nervously fidgeting with the salt shaker on the table.   A waitress passing by knocked my table ever so slightly, singing apologizes as she walked on.  But the damage was done.  I had tipped the salt shaker at the bump, and now several grains of salt were dashed across the table.  

            Isn't spilt salt bad luck?!  

            Okay, that's fine.  I just have to... throw pepper over my shoulder?  Which shoulder?  Maybe it was spilt pepper that was bad luck, and you threw the salt over the shoulder, in which case it wouldn't matter because I hadn't spilt pepper... maybe it was neither!  Maybe it was sugar or Soya sauce or-

            "Trunks?"  Numbly putting both the shakers down, I looked up to see Pan smiling and taking a seat.  Apparently she hadn't known what to wear, and had gone for the casual-nice look as well.   Her hair was piled up messily on her head, with numerous strands falling around her face.  She wore khakis herself, though they were designed to only fall half-way down her thighs, and a red top that was more of the 'strapy' type then the 'let's cover those shoulders, miss' type.   I suppose she could wear that with those temperatures.  Changed my mind - I love summer.  

            I hastily brushed the salt off the table and returned her smile.  She hung the bag she was carrying over the back of her chair, and set casually a book and a pair of sunglasses down on the table to the side.  She brushed dark hair away from her eyes before speaking.

            "I'm glad I could talk to you.  We haven't really talked since..."  she trailed off, a faint red dashing her cheeks, and her eyes went instinctively to the book to her side.  I was about to question her about it, when the waitress was back.  I couldn't help giving her a quick glare.  If that salt came back to haunt me, she was going to pay for it.  

            "Orders?"  she asked in a perky voice, with a smile that was so fake it was only there for the tips.  I turned to Pan.

            "The usual?"  I asked her.  She grinned, nodded once, and began fiddling with a fork on the table.  

            "Two floats,"  I said and the girl was gone.  She was still twirling the fork, and I wondered why I hadn't chosen a fork to fidget with.  Surely they're more safer than salt shakers.   My eyes caught the book again.  "What's with the book?"  I asked.  There seemed to be no title...

            She dropped her fork with a clank, then looked back and forth between the book and myself.  

            "Well... it's a diary to tell you the truth, and if you even think about taking it I'll stab you with this fork and then pour salt on your wound,"  she said with smile.  

            "Nice imagery,"  I commented.  "I've seen you with your diary before... that one new?"  

            "Yep,"  she replied.  "Finished my old one,"  she explained needlessly.  I nodded.  Ever since I could really recall, she had always had a book with her.  She wrote a lot.  The waitress came back then, bearing two glasses of root beer with vanilla ice cream floating in it.  

            "Here ya go," she said before walking off.  Pan sipped hers quick, seemed to get an ice head ache, cringe, then grinned at the lovely taste.  It was then that any rational thoughts escaped my mind.  I was really only conscious of two things.  One - the ring sitting in my pocket, and two - her.  The way her legs were crossed, her upper leg swinging gently and softly hitting my own leg unconsciously.  The way she held her glass with one hand, and the other twirled the straw slowly around in her drink.  The way her hair brushed under her chin when she talked, her voice soft and almost melodious, though the words fell on my deaf ears.  

            Any thoughts of striking a conversation with her was gone.  I needed to ask, and I needed to ask right then.  Something compelled me to.  Something urged me to ask before another second went by.  

            "Pan, you know that night at your party,"  I started out, interrupting whatever she had been saying.  Her mouth sat in the formation of her last word, before pressing her lips together and turning her full attention to me.  She took her hands away from her glass and leaned slightly foreword.  

            "Yes,"  she said, her voice filled with something I couldn't place.  

            "I was going to ask you something that night, but wasn't able to."  Stupid Bra.  "Can I ask you now?"   The faint blush was back, and she leaned further in, giving a slight nod.  Her hands were clasped so tightly it looked like her fingers were turning white.  My hand brushed the pocket with the ring reassuringly.   Just say it.  Pan, will you marry me?  Okay.  Here goes nothing...  

            "Pan,"  the voice called, though it was not my own.   Pan jumped with a small shock and spun around to see who called her.  I looked up myself to see who had interrupted me.  This was getting ridiculous.  Dende, do you really not want me to marry this girl?  

            My eyes met with a young boy, whose arm was now draped dangerously around Pan's shoulder.  She was sitting extremely tensely, and I couldn't help but match her feelings.  If she was freaked by this guy, it was my duty to dispose of him.  I glared.  

            Blue eyes met chestnut, and I suddenly was able to put a name to the boy.  

            "Peter, right?"  I asked, not bothering to hide the venom in my voice.  He cocked in eyebrow.  

            "That's right,"  he looked me up and down.  "Heh, you know Panny,"  I watched Pan cringe at the use of her nick name by the creep, "when you turned down my... offer... on graduation, I thought it might have been because you're a virgin and were afraid, but since your obviously sleeping with Mr. Millionaire here, I guess I was wrong."  Pan pushed her chair up and stood up defiantly.  

            "How dare-" she started before he interrupted, with a shrug.

            "Don't get in a tissy, Panny.  I admire girls who'd do anything to get ahead.  And if being someone's slut works for you-"  I don't think Peter knew what hit him.  She kneed him in places that caused me to wince (and if I recall, this wasn't the first time she'd done so to him) followed by a slap to the face.  

            "You bi-"  

            "Sorry, did that hurt?  Let me get you some ice."  And the next second, his pants were pulled out, the rest of her float was poured down them, and she grabbed her bag in a huff before marching out.   Applause from the customers of Lugino's followed her.

            I should have followed her as well, I suppose, but I couldn't.   I probably should have done some damage to the creep as well, but I think he had suffered enough.  I decided to sit and laugh at the pathetic look on Peter's face as he half-walked, half-crawled out of the restaurant.  I dropped some bills on the table, my eyes catching on Pan's diary.  I'd have to return that to her.  

            All in all, it was rather a let down though.  Now I still had to ask her, and the thought of asking and her answer would haunt me until I actually got it done.  At least this time I had a valid excuse for needing to see her again - giving back her diary.  But, I had been so close.  If only Peter hadn't shown up...  

            ... guess that salt was bad luck after all.  

--- 

_I hear your voice_

_And I start to tremble_

_Brings back the child that_

_I resemble_

_I cannot pretend_

_That we can still be friends_

_Don't wanna be_

_Alone tonight_

---

[July 19]

            Well, little Miss 'I like to barge in on my brother's marriage proposals' has just walked into my office.  I've got my reading glasses on, and I'm typing nicely away.  Perhaps she will go away.  

            "Trunks?"  Perhaps not.  I'll just pretend to keep on working...  "I know you're writing on your little computer diary, so why don't you stop for a second and listen to me."   I could sit and wonder to myself how she knows I have a journal (NOT a diary) on here, but that would simply take too much brain power.  I glance over wearily.  

            "Apparently Pan had a little run in with her ex... well, sorta.  They weren't really going out but-  I mean... argh, she met Peter again,"  she said in a rush of words and pauses.  

            "I know.  I was there,"  I answer.  Heh heh.  Ooh, was I there.  The look on his face when she-

            "Yeah, well, he really upset her.  I'm going over to cheer her up.  Wanna come?"  I glance over at the piles of paper in my Inbox.  No... I couldn't.  

            "I can't.  But if you're going..."  Reaching into my desk, I pull out her diary.  Bra raises her eyebrows at the sight of it.  "I didn't read it!"  She still looked skeptic, so I place my hand over my heart.  "Gentlemen's honour."  Hastily I scribble a word on a scarp of paper, fold it and paper clip it to the cover of the book before handing it to my sister.  She raises an eyebrow at the paper, but leaves without inquiring about it.  

            It won't really bother me if she reads it.  As said, it only contains one word.  

            'Lunch?'

---

_What can I do to make you mine_

_Falling so hard_

_So fast this time_

_What did I say_

_What did you do_

_How did I fall in love with you_

---

[July 29]  

            For the next ten days, Pan and I passed notes to each other through the lovely note-passer, sister Bra.  And I can tell you she was absolutely 'thrilled' about the whole thing.   

            "Why can't you two use the phone?!"  

            "Bra, this is so much more romantic."  

            "Please don't use the word 'romantic' in reference to yourself." 

            She'll get over it.  I think the only reason she did it was because she still felt guilty about ruining the grad proposal, and Pan is her best friend.  I don't think it has a thing to do with wanting to be nice to me.  Or maybe she figures if she helps me, I'll help set her up with Goten.  However, I think Goten might have his eyes on Marron.... no reason to tell her that though.  

            For safety reasons, there is no possible way I can keep all the notes we passed to each other.  My family is as nosy as ever, and I just can't keep that kind of evidence around the house.  They must be burnt.  But I'll write them here first, naturally.  

            And so, with each day, a new note was passed, each quite as vague as the first note I slipped on her diary cover asking her for lunch.   Bra showed up with a reply two days later, and what was the point in breaking the pattern?  So, on July 21 I got Pan's reply. 

Her:  Ice cream instead?  

Me:  Sure

Her:  Where?

Me:  Park

Her:  Okay.  Time?

Me:  3:00?

Her:  Sounds good.  Day?

Me:  30th?

Her:  Deal 

            And so, tomorrow, after more than a week of this pointless passing, I have another date with her.  Another chance to ask her to be mine.  Another chance for everything to go horribly wrong again.  

---

_I want to say this right_

_And it has to be tonight_

_Just need you to know_

_I don't wanna lives this life_

_I don't wanna say goodbye_

_With you I wanna spend_

_The rest of my life_

---

[July 30]

            I had spent days planning for ice cream, and then, as my present streak of luck would have it, I couldn't get out of the office.  Short skirt bimbos that mother employed, for reasons only known to her, block every way out, arms always filled with documents and papers that "simply must have your attention, Mr. President,".    

            Judging on who my parents are, I find it odd how I have such a manageable temper.  As 3:15 rolled around, I escaped to my office with promises that I would be looking at the papers, while my secretary gave me a stern look which quite clearly told that she knew I was simply going to toss the papers on my desk and make a beeline to my window.  

            Should I be flattered she knows me so well, or just insulted that I'm so predictable?  

            When I finally made it to the park, it was twenty minutes past the time I was supposed to meet up with Pan.  Chances were she had gotten tired of waiting and left.  If she was still there, I knew where she would be.  

            There she was, staring off into the lake, watching the little ducks swim around, and occasionally fight for a bread crumb thrown by a child.  Pan seemed to have a fascination with the ducks and the lake.  She once told me she came there to think.  It was all very classic.  In fact, this same scene had been played almost a month earlier.  I thought I'd repeat my line one more time - in the spirit of tradition, you understand.

            "What's a pretty girl like you doing out here all alone?"  She turned her head sharply, a grin growing on her face.    Clearly memory was a strong point with her, because she recited the same words used last time.  

            "I could ask you the same thing."  It was all just a game. 

            "Are you saying I'm a girl?" 

            "Well, you fight like one."  I grinned and sat down beside her.  

            "I'm sorry.  I got tied up at the office,"  I explained, closely watching her face for what she was feeling about my tardiness. 

            "I figured as much,"  she said lightly.  It didn't look like she was too upset, but I kept my eye on her anyway.  She had her hair completely loose today.  I had an urge to run my fingers through it - just to see what it felt like.  I hope one day I'll get the chance to.  

            "It seems like forever since we were here last,"  I commented, making reference to the night we ran into each other.  Sometime before her grad.  She nodded.  "Pan... about Lugino's... are you okay?"  I asked cautiously.  She sighed, bringing her knees up to her chest, and wrapping her arms casually around them.  She rested her chin on her knees and kept her midnight gaze on the horizon of the lake.  

            "Yeah.  It was just weird.  Peter seemed so nice... but he wasn't.  He didn't have any respect for me.  It's hard to find guys who do."  Was she implying...?

            I respect her, don't I?  Yes... I think so.  

            "Pan, I-"

            "I don't mean you, Trunks,"  she said lightly, but truthfully, as if she could read my mind.  I nodded dumbly, but I don't think she caught it.  She still held the lake's gaze.  

            "I take it... he was a creep to you?"  I asked.  I had an idea of what he did by what he had said to her at Lugino's, but I wasn't ready to come out and ask her about her sex life.  

            "Creep is a less that adequate word,"  she replied.  Then, as if wanting to spill a secret that was eating her up, she leaned back on her palms and gave me a sharp look.  I held her gaze until she relaxed and looked back at the lake.  "You probably guessed, anyway.  He wanted to have sex with me... or maybe just strip me... I'm not sure.  I'm guessing the first."  So I was right.  

            "You didn't want to then?"  I asked quietly.  She looked at me sharply again.  

            "Of course I didn't want to!  I'm eighteen years old, Trunks.  Well, no, it doesn't really have to do with my age.  It has to do with I'm not going to do that kind of thing before I'm married... and even if I did... it wouldn't be with some captain of the football team huddled in a bush outside of a high school."   I laughed.  I couldn't help it.   The guy wanted to get laid, and he was trying to do it with a stubborn girl in a bush?  This guy either had no tact or no brain.  

            "A bush, huh?  How romantic,"  I commented.  She nodded in agreement, her grin having returned.  

            "Yeah, well he got his reward for it."  

            "You know, last time I was here, I made a comment you looked good in white... I meant it you know."  Urgh, now who has no tact?  Shut up.  I needed to ask her!  Pan turned her entire attention to me, knowing what I was going to ask.  

            "Pan, will-"

            "Trunks," a new voice stated.  Dende, I must tell you how I loathe thee.  This is my third, count them Dende, one, two, three, THREE times trying propose to this girl, and I keep getting interrupted.  First there was Bra, then Peter, and then-

            "Jessica!"  I gasped out, rather shocked to see her again.  She looked as pretty as she ever did.  But not the pretty I was going after.  I stood slowly to face her eye to eye.  She seemed to have had the same idea that Pan and I had, and was holding a chocolate ice cream cone.  

            "Glad you remembered my name.  You know, when you said you loved someone else, I thought at least,  I was being dumped for someone sophisticated, good-looking, and rich.  Not some high school bimbo.  I didn't think you were the kind of guy that went after ones so young,"  she said in a low voice, before turning her glare to Pan.  "Hope you're giving good for whatever he pays you."  

            "Jessica, don't you even-"

            "Stow it, Trunks,"  she said.  She looked down at her ice cream for a second, a wicked grin flashed over her face, and the next thing I knew her chocolate cone was all down my shirt (which was quite cold, thank you) and she was stalking away, her red hair swinging behind her.  

            Rather dazed, I sat down again.  

            "What is it?  Our month for running into violent ex's?  And on that matter, what is it with girls dumping cold things onto guys?"  Pan was grinning.  

            "At least it was just on your chest and not... other places."

            "Agreed."

            "Well, maybe you can tell me, why does everyone think you're paying me to sleep with you?  For that matter, why do they think we're sleeping together in the first place?"  

            "Maybe they can see what  I feel.  Pan, I need to ask you.  Pan-"  but she held up a hand.

            "Is this an important question, Trunks?"  

            "Uh... yes."

            "Well, would you ask it to me tomorrow if you couldn't today?"  

            "Uh... yes."  I repeated dumbly.  What was she saying?

            "Then can I take a rain-check on the question?  If it's a life-altering question, I'd rather you asked it when you didn't have ice cream all over your shirt."  Pan!  There's always something stopping me, please don't do it to me too!  Fine.  I can wait a bit longer. 

            "What's so wrong with ice cream?"

            "It's your ex's ice cream."

            "Good point."  She giggled and stood up.  

            "Bye Trunks,"  she said, waving and skipping away.  "Thanks for the ice cream!"  she called back sarcastically.  

            "Shut up, Pan!"  I called after her.   

            What did I get out of this?   Two almost proposals, a ruined shirt, and an ice cream-less day in the park.  

            Dende, would you please stop hating me long enough for me say five words to Pan?  Please?  Don't make me bring out those worship offers again...

---

_What can I do to make you mine_

_Falling so hard_

_So fast this time_

_What did I say_

_What did you do_

_How did I fall in love with you_

---

[August 05]

            Dende, it used to be funny.  Now it's borderline barbaric.  Would you let me propose?!  I understand you never got over that whole deal with that goat and the maple syrup, but that was years ago!  I've matured since then... sort of.  What do I have to do to make you like me?!  

            Please do not disturb.  Sending mental hate mail to the guardian of Earth.  

            I had a lot on my mind this morning.  I mean, right now all I can think of is roasting a namek over an open fire, but this morning I had slightly less murderous thoughts and more rational ones. 

            Naturally I was thinking of Pan.  

            It's weird.  When Pan has things on her mind, you'll find her in the park.  A country girl that heads out for a piece of the city.  I realize the park is still quite... naturey, but it's still amoung civilization.  Myself, being a city boy, I head over to the mountains.  There's a specific spot I fancy in particular.  Now, that my seem perfectly rational, so here would be the weird part.  It seems, to me at least, that when Pan's in her spot, I know she is, and have a choice to greet her or not.  It seems the same for her.  I cannot count the times Pan's shown up at my spot, or was even there before I got there.  

            Such was the case today.  

            After escaping another day of work (accompanied with glares from my secretary) I headed to my spot.  And there she was.  Her pants were rolled up past her knees, with her feet soaking in the river.  She turned to look at me as soon as I landed. 

            "Hey there.  Thought you'd be coming today,"  she said with a grin, raising a hand half covered by a turtle-neck whose sleeves were too long on her, to brush away strands of ebony hair that had slipped from her braids.  I walked over and plunked down beside her, crossing my legs and folding my hands.  

            "Yeah,"  I said rather pointlessly with a shrug.  Pan tilted her head and looked at me closely.  

            "Well, you seem annoyed,"  she commented.  I bowed my head, looking at my hands.  She could read me like a book.  She always could.  

            "Yeah, well... it's just frustrating, I suppose."  

            "Oh?"  she says with a light voice, leaning foreword and trying to peer under my hair and at my eyes.  She's grinning.  I wondered if she could see me from under the hair that had fallen foreword and shielded me.  I stuck out my tongue in experiment.  

            She slapped my shoulder.  

            I guess she could.  She was laughing again.  

            I think, about all of the things that make up Pan, I enjoy her laugh.  Her laugh.  Her smile.  Both.  When she smiles, it's... it's more than just lighting up the room.  It's more than just lifting whatever mood you're in.  It's... when you see it, you can't help but want to become a different person.  You can help but want to try and change who you are to be worthy of that smile.  You want to be worthy enough to look at it every day.  

            Or lucky enough.  

            But with the luck I've had lately, it doesn't really seem like a possibility.  

            My thoughts were interrupted when she grabbed at my eyes.  

            "Hey!" I said in surprise.  She had snatched my reading glasses.  I hadn't realized I'd still been wearing them.  Without a moment's hesitation, she slipped them over her own eyes, wrinkling her nose at the affect it had on her vision.  She turned back to me.  

            "And, vhut, Mizdar Tr-runks, seems to be a-nnoie-in' yoo?"  she asked, in a ridiculous accent, pushing my sliding glasses back up her nose.  

            "Well, Miss..."  

            "Cleo." 

            "Right.  Miss Cleo.  There's this girl..."  

            "Ahh.  A garl.  Continue, plaze."  She had a most serious expression on her face, and I had to hold in laughter.  

            "I have a question to ask her."  

            "Zen ask eet!"  

            "Well, I've tried.  But people keep interrupting me."  

            "Oh?  Like 'oo?"  

            "My sister, her ex, my ex... her."  She gave a small snort at this.  

            "Vell... zair iz no one to distract yoo now."  

            "That's true..."    She gulped, and when the glasses slid to the edge of her nose, she didn't bother moving them back up again.  

            "Zen why don't yoo ask?"  she said very softly.  

            "Okay."  I hadn't noticed, but our faces were inches apart.  

            "Okay?"  

            "Pan... will you-"

            "Panny!"  Bloody hell!  Pan was so surprised at the sudden call of her name that, with arms flailing, she tipped over into the river.  Surprised myself, I made a grab for her, and got pulled in with her.  We both came up, spitting water out of our mouths and wiping it away from out eyes.  My glasses hung on by one of Pan's ears.  

            "Hey, you two going for a swim?"   I meant to groan inwardly, but I think it came out as real.  

            "Grandpa... I can't believe you did this,"  Pan was saying.  Goku, dressed in his usual attire, cocked his head to the side, making his infamous blank face.  

            "Did what?"  

            I was so completely fed up with this.  

            "Never mind.  I have to get back to work,"  I said shortly, before blasting to the sky.  I'm sure it was rude to leave Pan like that in the water, but I was... am... fed up with this all.  I just want to ask her.  I want to ask her, and get an answer.  Any answer would be better then just sitting here.  It's been over a month!  

            Enough is enough.  

---

_What can I do to make you mine_

_Falling so hard_

_So fast this time_

_Everything's changed_

_We never knew_

---

[August 09]

            Working at home.  Apparently the secretary went and tattled, so here I am, under my mother's watchful eye.  But at the moment she's not looking over my shoulder, so I can write.  For now anyway.  

            Mindlessly typing away.  About nothing really.  

            Look at me type nothing.  

            Nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing noth-

            Hello.  The phone doth ringeth.  

            Click.  

            "Pa-an!  I'm so glad you called."  Sister answered it.  

            "Bra,  I said I would."  

            "I know, but you can duck out of gossip hours sometimes.  So, what's the latest scoop on the Case Trunks?  You still hung on him?"  Trunks!  Put the phone down.  It's terribly undignified to listen in on a lady's conversation.  

            "Of course I am, Bra."  Hang up now, Trunks!  

            "What's the problem, then?"  Trunks!

            "He... I don't know.  Summer's over half over.   He hasn't asked me-"

            "Pan, you have to admit there has been a string of interruptions."  

            "Yeah, I know..."  Get of the damn phone!  "It's just... as the summer goes on, my dad's talking more and more about university.  What am I going to do?  I can't put my life on hold while he figures out what to do."

            "I think he knows what to do, Pan.  It just seems the world's against him."         

            "Heh, it does seem that way."  

            "So... you're confused about what to do?"

            "Yeah."

            "But if he asks you, do you know what you're going to say?"  Trunks, please!

            "... yeah.  Yeah, I do."  

            "And that would be?" 

            "I'd say-"  

            Click.  

            Come on.  I do have some moral decency. 

[August 17]

            Gohan is a tart. 

[August 18]      

            Alright, let me elaborate.  He's not a complete tart... not pre say.  

            It was a rather peaceful day in the office, until the father of the girl I have set out to make mine storms in.  He pulls up a chair, sits in it, and leans on his elbows, glaring at me.   My secretary is standing in the door way yelling how she didn't let him in, he has no appointment, blah blah blah.  I shooed her away.  

            Tired, I took my glasses away from my eyes (Bra returned them to me), and tossed them onto the desk with a clink.  Turning in my swivel chair, I faced him.

            "Gohan,"  I said simply.  He unclenched his jaw.  

            "Your sister is quite a gossip, did you know?"  He asks in a neutral voice.  

            "Yes... I've heard."  Should I be scared?  Something was telling me to be frightened of him beyond belief.  

            "She also can speak rather loudly.  Especially when Pan gets her going.  So when the two have a sleep over at my house, and my room is next door, you'd be surprised what bits of gossip I pick up."  Gulp.  Remain calm.  

            "Is that so?  I don't suppose you have the latest update on the puppy next door?"  

            "Went into the vets yesterday.  However, I was more interested in some other tidbit of information I picked up."

            "Gohan-"

            "Trunks, look.  I just need to know what you intend to do with Pan.  I want to know how serious you are."  He leaned forward, his face peering into mine.  

            Gohan is a strange man.  He has immense power, but has a gentle personality.  Much like his father, yet more... intelligent about the world around him.  

            "Gohan,  I have never been more serious about anything."  He continued to stare.  My palms were sweating, but I remained eye contact and tried not to blink.  I had read once that when facing a dangerous animal you should not show fear.  

            Quite all of a sudden, he leaned back and grinned his inherited grin.  

            "Well, if it had to be someone, which I suppose it did, I'm glad it was you, Trunks."  

            "What... you are?"  I asked sounding like an idiot.  

            "Sure.  You have the power to protect her."

            "Oh."

            "But you lost you chance."

            "What?!"  

            "She's going to university.  If you're really so serious, it won't be a big deal to wait until she gets back."  With another grin, he upped and left.  So. 

            Pan's going to university?

            Not if I can help it.  

            But with Gohan's surprise visit, doubts were creeping on me.  I had his approval, which meant if I asked it would be final.   I needed to know.  Do I really love her?  

            Yes.  Of course I do.  

            But it could just be that seductive perfume she owns.  

---

_How did I fall_

_In love_

_With you_

---

[August 25] 

            I don't know why I left this for so late.  I had to speed to the airport.  You have never seen someone go as fast as I did.   I was too nervous to fly, but I doubt I was any better behind the wheel.  

            I thought I might have missed her.  Desperately, I looked around for her.  

            She was sitting near the windows, luggage beside her, gazing without really looking at anything.  She didn't really notice me when I sat down beside her.  

            Bra had told me before that she didn't want anyone to see her off, and that was the reason no one was there.  She had been lying.  Apparently Pan told everyone she was leaving on a date later than that on her ticket.  

            Her legs were crossed, her upper leg swinging, and her hands clasped lightly on her lap.  I reached into my jacket and pulled out what had been haunting me for over two months.  The ring looked very pretty.  It would look prettier on her.  

            "Do you know who I bought this ring for?"  I asked almost dully.   She glanced at it, a small smile on her face, for reasons unknown to myself, even now.  

            "You bought that for Jessica,"  she replies, her voice even.   Pan just doesn't understand.   I will never meet a girl more confusing than her.  Why was she bringing up Jessica of all people?  Doesn't she get it?   I love her. 

            "No, I bought it for you,"  I answer, transfixing my stare on the ring myself.  Okay, Trunks.  Just spill it all out.   "Well, rather I bought it for the idea of you.   I bought it for the woman I wanted to marry, who would make me happy, and I would give everything I own and more to make her the same."  I paused, eyes never leaving the band of silver in my hand, never daring to look into her face.  I wonder, looking back, what she was feeling.  Pan wears her emotions on her sleeve, but I didn't have the nerve to look.  I just wanted to say what I had on my mind, on my heart, before it went away, and any perfume she might have been wearing started to make me go tipsy.   "I once thought that was Jessica.  I was wrong.  Deep down, I always knew who it was,"  I reluctantly removed my stare.  I would be a total idiot to look at my hands when saying what I wanted to say.  Slowly, I met her gaze which was, surprisingly, unreadable.  Perhaps I just wasn't concentrating properly.          

            "Pan, that woman was you,"  I said softly.  Her eyes were teary, and I half-expected her to burst out sobbing and hug me or kiss me, and I fully wanted her to do.  However, she merely held back the tears and looked at me.   I should have known there and then that her answer was not what I completely wanted to hear.  

            "Trunks..."  she trailed off, her voice sounding off.   

            "Pan, you... don't feel the same?"  I asked.  I have no clue where the courage for that particular question came from.  In fact, I have no clue where the question itself came from.  Somehow, it made its way to my lips, and I needed to ask it.   Weeks of doubt flooded in.  There were so many answers she could have given me.  So many good, so many bad.  

            "Of coarse I feel the same, Trunks,"  she said with her smile.  That ranked in with the many good answers as far as I was concerned.  "But..."  okay, perhaps it did go in the many bad after all.   

            I'll have you know if there was one word I could delete from our language would be the word 'but'.  I despise it.  That and 'cinnamon'.  It's a pain to say, a pain to spell, but goes very nicely in warm milk when you feel sick.  But that's beside the point.  Hmm, I just used the word... well, let's say I hate the word 'but' when it comes after Pan saying she loves me, fair?  

            "But, what?"  I was beginning to sound quite whiny by then, I'm sure.  

            "But, I can't,"  she held a hand up quickly before I could interrupt.  "I have been waiting practically all of my life for you.  All of my life.  My feelings will never change, they are too strong.  But what about yours?"  Had she been talking to her father?  It's interesting.  When Pan mentioned her doubts, it became so obvious that we both had them.  We wanted to be together so much, we never stopped to think about it.  But there was no time now...

            "Pan, I love you.  Love just doesn't 'change', it only grow,"  I replied, whiny voice gone, replaced with desperate.  She doubted the way I felt, and this could be going no where but down hill.  

            "I'm eighteen years old, Trunks.  I am going to University.  That has been my plan since high school.  You were never in that plan... well, not the way you are now.  You were a figure I could pine after, but never really there.  Now you're here, but I still want to live.   I have been so sheltered, and so completely in love with you, I haven't had a chance to figure out what I want... do you understand?"   

            "You want to go to school, and sort out your feelings.  You want to make sure this is what you want,"  I said softly.  I have no idea how I could follow what was on her mind, because all that was on mine was thinking of ways to convince Pan to accept the ring and marry me.  

            "That's right,"  she said, the tears finally slipping down her cheeks.  It occurred to me only then that her decision was tearing her up inside.   I also wondered where all of these feelings were for the past two months since I've been trying to propose to her.  

            But that decision of hers was a good one.  It truly was.  It was all so fast, how could either of us _not be making some sort of dreadful mistake?   _

            "Okay Panny,"  I said quietly, before jumping to my feet, only to kneel down in front of her.  I pulled out the ring and held it to her.  Her eyes narrowed.  

            "Trunks, haven't you been listening to a-"

            "Pan, will you wait for me?"  I asked her, the ring held out to her vision.  She blinked, her face returning to a thoughtful expression, before slowly reaching out and taking the ring.

            "I will wait for you Trunks, if you wait for me,"  she said, with a grin, before jumping into my welcoming arms.  It was the initial reaction I had hoped for, but this one came with a condition.

            I could marry Pan.  I really could.  Except it would be only if her and I both felt the same after the years she will go away for.   All of those years.   

            But now I have plenty of time to figure out exactly, precisely what I feel.   I will know if she was just a passing 'Jessica', of if it was an odd attraction really brought on by that perfume of hers.  

            But it doesn't matter.  Because I know what my heart feels already.  

            I simply have to wait for her to return.

            Wait now, and I will never have to wait again.   

The End... again.

Disclaimer:  Naturally, I don't own Trunks and Pan.  Nor do I own the song used in this fic, "How did I fall in love with you".  It belongs to the BackStreet Boys.  I like to apologize for that.  Normally, I wouldn't use a song by a band who so many people either obsess over, or acquire murderous tendencies when they hear them.  I myself, am neither.  I don't want to portray myself as a boyband worshiper, because I'm not, I don't even favour those boys. I have neither a huge liking, nor disliking for the group, and don't wish to start a huge hysteria over it.  I only even mention it because its such a controversy out there.   The song fit with my story - the end.  


End file.
